It begins late each February, right around the time of my birthday as I recall. Something is different, a stirring that seems to signal winter’s end. It was in 1961 when it first happened for me; I was seven years old and in grade two.
I walked to Dehart Primary School down the same sidewalk each day always past the same homes. Yet this day felt different. As I walked something caught my attention. Out of the corner of my eye I saw something that was not there the day before. There it was, close to the foundation of Mr. T.’s house on Borden Avenue. Peeking out from behind a mound of snow, the most amazing sight! A solitary snowdrop cast its face upward. With each passing day more buds opened and soon there was a lovely little patch of what has now become my favourite harbinger of spring! The beautiful snowdrop (aka Galanthus).
I recently drove past the home and garden that used to belong to Mr. T. Fifty two years have changed the place, there are no longer snowdrops there but the memory of that time, that first day when I saw that first one is etched in my mind’s eye forevermore.
Just last week much to my delight, I came across another magical garden with snowdrops. There they were bright white against the foundation of another home; the place, my doctor’s heritage home/office! We had a brief chat about the snowdrops. A smile came across his face when I mentioned them and he excitedly asked if I had seen just how many there were! A kindred spirit, a lover of the garden and like me eager for spring.
My FIND of snowdrops has had me on a search for more signs of spring. It is amazing what happens when I take time to really see! Just outside my own window is a weeping pussy willow, upon a closer look silky buds are swelling. It can’t be long now until warmer days, can it?
While dismantling the winter greenery baskets yesterday I could not help but notice how barren the front of our home is now. That greenery had brightened our portico and veranda since November through all the grey and snowy winter days. But now that they are gone, I can see that something special is going to take their place. In the front flower bed crocus, daffodil, and tulip bulbs have poked through the cold soil! Around back, the Hellebores are in bud.
All of this before the first day of March! My neighbour spotted me out perusing the garden and chided that “it starts anew”. I chuckled “yes, and so it does!” I continued my rounds. Robin red breast is back in our neighbourhood and the quail too, but no baby ‘walnuts’ yet! The red throated wood pecker is back also. He starts his rat-a-tat-tat pretty early in the morning!
On my birthday I planted up a container of brightly hued primulas to place at the front door; yes, we bring them in each night - we are zone 5 here. They bring a smile to my face each and every morning as I transport them from front hallway to front porch.
Next week a favourite nursery opens its doors for the season and I will be there with bells on, at 10 am! Ah, the ambiance of that place; the humid air, the smell of soil, the colourful blooms of spring bulbs in pots and the early vegetables in their little packs; I will be there for my lettuce transplants! The weather is a little cool for planting them in the ground yet, but I do up a lettuce planter which also does the in-at-night-out-in-the-morning routine. We are first on our block with anything green outdoors and also the first to have a feed of fresh lettuce!
A new gardening season is about to start, weeds to pull, seed trays to plant and tools to clean and sharpen. I have a head start thanks to my February birthday and my find of lovely snowdrops that have made me smile on the coolest of February days.
I think Margaret Atwood says it best in Bluebeard’s Egg: “In the spring, at the end of the day, you should smell like dirt!”
Written and submitted by: Heather Doheny
